


Another Chance for a Slow Dance

by MathClassWarfare



Series: We’ve Got Plenty of Time [17]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Noctis Lucis Caelum Lives, Older Noctis Lucis Caelum, Older Prompto Argentum, Older Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum, POV Prompto Argentum, Post-Canon, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:26:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27779848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MathClassWarfare/pseuds/MathClassWarfare
Summary: Prompto and Noctis reflect on how far they've come.
Relationships: Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum
Series: We’ve Got Plenty of Time [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1104645
Comments: 12
Kudos: 28
Collections: Beginning of Forever - An older Promptis Fan Project - Event Submissions





	Another Chance for a Slow Dance

**Author's Note:**

> It's the 4th Anniversary of FFXV!
> 
> It's also Day 3 of the Older Promptis Event:  
> \- “Hey, remember when we…”  
> \- Slow Dance  
> \- Wedding Night

The couch is occupied by his napping partner and dog, so Prompto sits on the floor with his laptop, making last minute edits to tomorrow’s cover photo. After Vyv texts him for probably the fifth time, he tells himself it’s good enough and sends the thing off. Hopefully it won’t look too bad when they print it.

Since the program’s already open, Prompto begins to idly scroll through his photos. He has dozens of folders for work and various creative projects, and his personal snapshots are all saved in there, too. He opens up the folder labeled ‘Home’ and finds a recent shot of Umbra looking like a furry cupcake, curled up in the chair. He considers whether to post it. His followers love to see that dog, but it kind of feels like cheating. 

There’s a shifting of fabric and the squeak of a dog-yawn behind him as Noctis stirs and scoots forward to look over Prompto’s shoulder. “Cute,” he mutters, voice thick with sleep. He dangles his arm over the other shoulder and his fingers brush against Prompto’s chest.

Umbra responds to his human’s change in position by jumping off the couch with a huff and moving over to the chair. Meanwhile, Prompto continues to flip through the contents of the folder. He comes across a photo of Noctis passed out in his tux, with a half-eaten slice of chocolate cake in front of him. “Our exciting wedding night,” Prompto laughs, reaching up to hold Noctis’s hand.

“ _Hey._ Not my fault Ignis and Gladio stayed so late.” 

“True.” He brings Noctis’s knuckles to his lips and opens up another folder, labeled ‘Old.’

Prompto flips through the photos from their time on the road, during the worst part of the war (which was ironically the best part of his life by that point). They look at Noctis and Gladio doing funny poses in the Lestallum market; a herd of anak crossing the road; and Ignis sipping coffee in the firelight. 

“That’s a good one,” Noctis says softly, and Prompto squeezes his hand.

He doesn’t linger on any of the dozens of shots he took during combat, and winces as he flicks past an MT. Not taking things seriously was how he had coped at the time, but now that all that violence is behind them, the weight of it is harder to ignore. He keeps scrolling until he reaches the really good stuff: high school.

Clicking on a selfie he took waiting for the train one time, Prompto squeals, “ _Oh em gee_ , Noct! Look how cute and surly you were!”

 _“Gods,”_ Noctis laughs, burying his face in Prompto’s neck. “The eyeliner. Do you really want to look at these?”

“Absolutely.” 

“Then come sit next to me.” 

Noctis scoots himself upright to make room for Prompto, then snuggles in beside him.

There are lots of ‘artistic’ black and white shots of skate shoes and hands; several dogs; a bunch of mostly-blurry concert photos; and a whole series of flowers in the park. He finds another photo of Noctis in a tux, but unlike the shots from their wedding, he’s wearing a gorilla mask—their way around official laws against photographing the prince.

“Hey, remember when we went to prom and didn’t dance with anybody?”

“Yeah,” Noctis sighs. “I would’ve danced with you though.”

“Really?” He turns to see Noctis gazing at him with a soft, sweet smile. 

“I would dance with you right now.”

Prompto knows exactly what song he should choose for a slow dance—it was everywhere that year. They must have heard it at least three times during prom, while they sat at the photo booth, not-so-silently judging their classmates. “Okay,” he says, pulling up the music video. “Prove it.”

Noctis shakes his head, but he still stands and holds out his hand for Prompto to join him. When he does, Noctis places one hand on his shoulder and the other on the small of his back, and Prompto does the same.

Looking down at their feet, it seems like Noctis is trying to take steps that Prompto doesn’t know how to follow. “No fair,” he whines. “I forgot you actually know how to do this . . .”

“Sorry, I’ll try not to get too fancy, but—” Noctis grins and dips him backwards.

 _“Ahhhahaha!”_ Prompto nearly chokes laughing, and Umbra looks up at them with concern.

Noctis spins Prompto until he’s dizzy, then catches him to hold him upright. As the cheesy music swells, they lock eyes, gasping for breath, and dissolve into laughter again.

“Who knew you were so fucking romantic?” Prompto teases, as Noctis leans in to kiss him. 

_Prompto_ knew, though. Noctis doesn’t say much, but it’s because he’s careful to pick just the right words. And what he doesn’t say, he shows, with all the thoughtful things he does—hiding little notes and poems in Prompto’s camera bag, or cooking with the chiles he knows Prompto loves, even though he’s not a big fan of spicy food. And the way he looks at Prompto in the morning, when he and Umbra come in from their jog, as if he’s not all sweaty and disgusting, but somebody worth looking at—somebody worthy.

Noctis’s breath puffs against Prompto’s lips as he pulls away just long enough to say, “I love you, too.” Then Prompto presses forward to give him back all the warmth and sweetness that’s filling up his heart. 

When the song ends, the algorithm chooses another early 750’s pop ballad, and they keep swaying there, in their studio apartment, in their city on the mend, in a bright world filled with nothing but possibility—together.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [moonwaif](https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonwaif/pseuds/moonwaif) for last-minute edits and feedback on this! Thank you to [Makiko](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MakikoIgami/pseuds/MakikoIgami) and [Banira](https://twitter.com/vaniracoke) for organizing this event (and the related zine!!) And thank you to the FFXV fans who are so creative and generous and enthusiastic in sharing your passion for this story and these characters.
> 
> P.S. The song they dance to can be any slow pop song you remember from your own adolescence. 
> 
> P.P.S. The title is a play on Fugazi's _Last Chance for a Slow Dance_ , which is NOT the vibe of this fic, but it might just be a WoR Prompto song :(


End file.
